44-Three year ago in the summer

A few days later.

In the basement of Villa Brent.

The cold coloured light illuminates the interior clearly. Several innocent rabbits had been trapped here, but now the cages were empty, and a man was tied to a chair at the console, a black cloth tied over his eyes.

He couldn't get free, and bounced futilely in place like a dying fish, pausing wearily to listen for movement.

There was no sound.

Except for the sound of Brent's breathing, sitting across from him. He couldn't see the look Brent was casting over him, but he still felt shivers and goose bumps.

"Who, who the hell are you?" He spoke tentatively.

"You've done things for Davis?" Brent asked rhetorically.

The man didn't answer immediately.

His mind raced, trying to guess what Brent meant by that question. But racking his brain, he couldn't come up with an answer.

Instead, Brent asked the same question again, with an undisguised coldness in his voice.

The man felt his goose bumps rise. A constant fear of the unknown haunted him.